Rule of Thumb
by wild-springflower
Summary: When at the station Sherlock has many rules and restrictions to follow. Here's a little background as to how they all came into play. *Based on OxfordTweed's story, 70 Things Sherlock Holmes Is No Longer Allowed*
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not profit from this in any way shape or form, I do not own Sherlock, the characters, or the idea. I am merely a teenager trying to have some fun in this oh so boring world. **

**A/N: OK, so I am currently in the middle of a story for the movie Inception which I really should be working on right now, but alas, inspiration has evaded me once again, so all the Inception fans are going to have to be patient while I treat all you Sherlock fans with this fic! IMPORTANT: I did not come up with this idea, it was inspired by Mr-X-Indeed's story, 70 Things Sherlock Is No Longer Allowed. I recommend you check it out cause this is totally based off that, honestly, that story takes no more than five minutes to read and it is hilarious! Just saying, here's the link, please check it out, but then don't forget to come back and read this! .net/s/6894044/1/70_Things_Sherlock_Holmes_is_no_Longer_Allowed Anywho, enjoy! I hope you get a good laugh out of this, cause I sure had a few writing it!**

When at the station Sherlock has many rules and restrictions to follow. Lestrade, finally having been fed up with Sherlock's constant rule breaking decided to make a list, or, have Sherlock make a list, of all the rules set in place at, or away from the station.

It had been a very long day, and Lestrade was very much looking forward to a hot shower, and maybe a nice movie when he arrived at his flat. But when he turned the corner to his apartment he stopped in his tracks, because kneeling in front of his door, hunched over the handle, was a dark, shadowed figure.

"Hey!" Lestrade shouted, fingering his gun.

The figure lept to their feet, then seemed to relax, slumping against the wall.

As Lestrade got closer he found out why. "Sherlock," He grumbled.

"Yes Lestrade?"

"What do you think you're doing?" The DI was very obviously trying to stay calm and not hurt the man before him.

Sherlock raised his pointer finger into the air, opening his mouth to explain.

"The truth." Lestrade demanded, before the consulting detective had even uttered a word.

Sherlock let his hand fall back to his side letting out and exasperated sigh. "I was attempting to uh, pick your lock."

"Why?"

Sherlock leaned real close, speaking in little more than a whisper, as if what you was about to say was some amazing secret. "Need to know." He nodded, a mischievous grin on his face, As he backed away from Lestrade he tapped his right temple with his pointer finger.

"I am so **sick **of you always breaking the rules!"

"Not always."

"**Always** Sherlock!"

"Just, most of the time."

Lestrade flashed Sherlock a glare that would have sent the entire Scotland Yard running for cover, Sherlock however, didn't even flinch.

Pulling out his keys Lestrade opened his door, "Inside, now." He commanded.

Holmes shuffled through the door and followed Lestrade to a small desk in the bedroom. Lestrade pulled a slip of loosleaf paper from a folder and scribbled something on it, then handed it to Sherlock.

At the very top of the page, right in the middle, in small handwriting, was his name. Then, across the top line were the words 'Rule of Thumb.'

Lestrade shoved the pen into Sherlock's hand, "One rule, **one** rule that's it. Do you think you can manage that much?" The only reply he got was Sherlock's expectant gaze, so he continued, "You will not pick the lock to my front door."

Sherlock bent over the desk and scribbled down his rule of thumb, 'I am not allowed the pick the lock to DI Lestrade's front door.' He then handed the paper back to Lestrade so he could read it over. "Happy?"

"Very. Now get out of here!"

"Cope that Lestrade! See you tomorrow!" And with a cheerful wave Sherlock turned on his heel and made for the door.

**O**_bserve_

It had been nearly three weeks since the incident with Sherlock at his front door and DI Lestrade was feeling pretty good, thinking his problems would be over. Well, one of this problems anyway.

That was before he found his front door hanging open and Sherlock ruffling through some files on his desk.

"What the **bloody** hell do you think you're doing?"

Sherlock jumped nearly ten feet in the air, turning to look at the fuming DI. "I... will have a good explanation for this, in about two minutes."

"Sherlock, what was that one rule you were supposed to remember?"

"I should really learn to pre-plan excuses. That might be helpful, would sure save me from a hell of a lot of trouble." Sherlock trailed off to himself.

"The rule Sherlock!" Lestrade was loosing his patience.

"What? Oh! I am not allowed to pick the lock to DI Lestrade's front door." Sherlock recited.

"One rule, **one**! How hard can that be to remember?"

"Actually Lestrade, I did not break that rule."

"Then might I inquire as to how you got inside my flat."

Sherlock smiled happily, "I used a bump key!"

Lestrade was silent for a moment then shouted angrily, "That's the same thing!"

Sherlock's grin fell, "Oh, well I think they're completely different but..."

"Sherlock, get out of my flat."

"Yes sir!" Sherlock turned to leave but was called back by Lestrade's voice, "Sherlock."

"Jeez, Sherlock leave, Sherlock come back, you are going to confuse me Lestrade, whatever could you need now?"

"Give me that file."

Sherlock reluctantly handed the file over, huffing out an indignant sigh as he did so. When he arrived home he pulled out the paper marked 'Rule of Thumb' and scribbled on the next vacant line, 'Rule #2: I am not allowed to use a bump key to unlock Lestrade's front door, as this still counts as picking the lock.'

**O**_bserve_

Obviously Sherlock hadn't learned his lesson, because it was not even a week later when Lestrade nearly ran the man over as he was entering his flat. "What the-! The door was locked!" Lestrade shouted, "How did you even-? Oh never mind, I don't care how you got in, get out!"

Sherlock didn't even bother with an explanation, he just turn tailed and bolted from the flat, all thoughts of the file had had been trying to get his hands on forgotten.

As he sprinted down the hallway, praying Lestrade cared enough about his career not to shoot him, Sherlock made a mental note to add Rule number three to his list, 'I am not allowed to enter Lestrade's flat at all, unless escorted by him' 

**Alright, this is all I have so far! The next chapter will be up ASAP, but a little feedback couldn't hurt, could it? Reviews are welcome, and keep a look out for the next chapter! Again, this is not my idea, thank you Mr-X-Indeed for allowing me to use your story for my own purposes! And please, if you haven't already, go check out that story! **


	2. Chapter 2

"Pleeeeeeeease John?" Sherlock pleaded, shoving the bag towards his reluctant colleague.

"No Sherlock, I'm not putting that in Anderson's apartment and getting myself into trouble!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Look, the doors already, don't ask how I know that, I just do. Say you were walking by and you were concerned."

"That would be lying." John crossed his arms in front of his chest defiantly. "Why don't you just do it yourself if its that important to you?"

"I would, believe me, I would **gladly** do this myself, but it contradicts rule number four."

At John's blank expression Sherlock thrust his now folded and worn piece of paper at him. John carefully opened it up. He found where it said 'Rule number four' in Sherlock's scrypty handwriting and read it aloud, "I am not allowed to ever Anderson's flat at all. Why?"

"Because Lestrade said so! If I break any of the rules on there I'll go to jail. I wouldn't do good in jail, frighteningly dull."

"You say it as if you know." John mumbled.

Sherlock promptly ignored him, "Now pleeeeeeease!"

"You sound like a five-year-old! No I will not!"

"Why not!"

John released a long sigh, pulled out his phone.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock demanded, getting slightly defensive.

"You've given me no choice, I'm calling Lestrade."

"What? No!" Sherlock practically tackled John to the ground, attempting to snatch the phone from his hands. "Give it! Give it! Give it!"

"No! Lestrade, hi, its John Watson."

Realizing his current technique wasn't working, Sherlock lept onto John's back, no longer trying to grab the phone, but end the call all together.

"Stop it!" John shouted, then continued talking into the phone, "Not you sir. Sherlock is attempting to get me to drop off a bag in Anderson's flat!" There was a pause, "Yes of course. Sherlock, ugh, Sherlock get of me! He wants to talk to you."

Finally giving into defeat, Sherlock got off John's back and reluctantly grabbed the phone, "Yes?"

John waited patiently for Sherlock to finish talking. The call ended with a quiet, "Yes sir." Then Sherlock handed the phone over with a glare.

"So?" John questioned.

"Traitor," Was all Sherlock said before he pulled out his paper and a pen, talking to himself quietly he began to write, 'Rule #8: Sending someone else into a flat that I have cleverly managed to unlock is the same as if I entered the residence myself.'

**Holy cow guys, I am SO SO SOOOOO sorry for the super long delay in this! Life got kinda busy and then I lost my notebook for a short time there. But I found it! And now I shall try to update more at lighting speed! I promise the next chapter will be longer, this one would have been longer but I'm pressed for time at the moment! :) **


	3. Chapter 3

Rule number nine was made not long after the incident with John when Lestrade found Sherlock sneaking through some evidence that was supposed to be kept in a locked safe.

"You picked the lock!" Lestrade accused.

"I prefer to think of it as, cleverly unlocking."

Three more rules were were added to the list that day. 'Rule #9: It is not cleverly unlocking. It is picking the lock and burglary. And I will be arrested for it the next time it happens.'

'Rule #10: Lestrade will not bail me out if I'm arrested for burglary.'

'Rule #11: Especially if he was the arresting officer.'

**O**_bserve_

Over the course of a month, Lestrade had granted practically all the officers in Scotland Yard the authority to make rules for Sherlock. He now had eighteen of them.

Nineteen through twenty-six were all given on the same day, Sherlock had been unusually bored and had been searching for something to occupy his ever active mind.

Lestrade entered his office and immediately covered his nose in a feeble attempt to ward off the putrid smell emitting from his small kitchen.

"Oh, what is that stink?"

"Just an experiment." Sherlock called.

When Lestrade entered the kitchen the sight before him was horrifying. "What are you doing with my hot plate?"

"I told you, an experiment."

"Are those eyes?" Lestrade was an educated man, and he would definitely know an eyeball when he saw one, except these were so distorted he had to ask.

"Yes. I was testing the boiling point of eyeballs!"

"Are they human!"

Sherlock paused before answering, "Will I be in more trouble if they are?"

Lestrade shook his head in disbelief, "Yes!"

"Then no." Sherlock answered with a huge grin.

'Rule #19: I am not allowed to use the hot plate in Lestrade's office to test the boiling point of eyeballs.'

'Rule #20: Human or otherwise.'

After the eyeball incident Lestrade figured he was off the hook, Sherlock **had** to have found something interesting to occupy his mind, right?

Wrong.

Lestrade thought he'd been wrong to hope that maybe he could have some peace and quiet now, he was right to think that, for once again upon entering his office he was met with a rancid odor, so bad, he keeled over and nearly threw up his lunch.

As he became more accustomed to the smell Lestrade realized he recognized it. Only one thing smelled like that. For a split second his heart skipped a beat as he stumbled his way into the kitchen. Had one of Sherlock's crazy experiments finally killed him?

Lestrade sighed in relief when he saw his consulting detective bent over his hot plate, at least he wasn't hurt, yet anyway.

It was then that Lestrade remembered what had brought him to the kitchen in such a frenzy. And sure enough, sitting in the middle of his hot plate was a charred piece of flesh.

"Please tell me you didn't get that from the morgue."

"Hmm?" Sherlock didn't even glance in his direction, "Get what?"

"The skin Sherlock, the skin that you are currently **roasting **on my hot plate. Tell me you didn't just pluck it off some poor dead sod's hand!"

"Oh no," Sherlock faced Lestrade with a smile on his face, "No need to worry, I plucked it off my own hand!" Sherlock held up one hand, bright white bandage wrapped around it, a little blood stained the otherwise spotless material.

"**Why**?"

"I wanted to know what burning flesh smelled like. Not very pleasing is it?"

"What did you expect!"

Sherlock just flashed a grin, he knew he was grating on the DI's last nerve, and that only prolonged his joy.

Lestrade turned his back to Sherlock, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to halt the ever advancing headache he just knew would be developing soon.

When Lestrade turned back to the consulting detective he found the skin had been scraped off the hot plate, and was about to be replaced by something in the small vile Sherlock was tipping upside down.

"Oh please tell that's not..."

"Semen!" Sherlock stated with glee, "I'm going to find it's boiling point!" He briefly reminded Lestrade of a little boy playing with bugs under a magnifying glass, finding out exactly how much pressure you could put them under before their insides boiled. But Sherlock was **not** a little boy and he was most definitely **not** playing with bugs.

"Oh no you're not! Wait, where did you even **get** that!"

"It wasn't easy." Sherlock stated as if that was reassuring.

"Oh please tell me that's not from evidence."

"I closed the case nearly a month ago, we don't need it anymore."

"Sherlock! You know you cant sneak evidence from the lab, that has to be on your list!"

"So, let me get this straight, I cant use your hot plate to find the boiling point of semen?" Sherlock question, as Lestrade hustled him from the room and to the door.

"No!"

"Well how about to-"

Lestrade slammed his door shut, cutting the man off mid-sentence, "No!" He shouted from inside.

"Well, may I borrow your coffee maker then?"

Lestrade opened the door and peered out at Sherlock in utter bemusement, "What **possible** reason could you have for needing my coffee maker?"

"You'd be surprised. So is that a yes?"

"No, you cant use my coffee maker!" Lestrade began to shut the door but stopped himself, poking his head back out he added, "Or my kettle, or anything belonging to me in my office!" And then he slammed the door shut, leaving Sherlock looking sad, disappointed, and slightly lost, as if aside from performing dangerous experiments using utensils found in Lestrade's office he has nothing to do.

So, he pulled out his paper and re-read rule number nineteen, 'I am not allowed to use the hot plate in Lestrade's office to test the boiling point of eyeballs.' He skipped rule twenty and began writing twenty-one.

'Rule #21: Or to get first-hand experience as to what burning flesh actually smells like.'

'Rule #22: Or to find the boiling point of semen.'

'Rule #23: I am not allowed to use the hot plate in Lestrade's office.'

'Rule #24: Or the coffee maker.'

'Rule #25: Or the kettle.'

When finished, he folded the paper back up and shoved it under the door. He heard Lestrade open it, then it was silent for a few minutes, and then the paper was shoved back under the door.

Sherlock opened it again, underneath rule twenty-five, in Lestrade's sloppy handwriting was rule twenty-six.

'Rule #26: I am not allowed to handle anything in Lestrade's office.'

**Alright, that's it for now! :) As promised this one is a bit longer! I hope you enjoyed it, there's more on the way! Feedback is always welcome! Once again, the inspiration for this story comes from OxfordTweed's fic, and the characters do not belong to me, I am only utilizing them for my own enjoyment! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright, this ones a bit longer, yay! One quick thing before we start, I would like to thank everyone who's reviewed or favorited this story, I love you all. But I would like to give a special thanks to Snowracer for your wonderful review! It really lifted my spirits and motivated me to tpye all this up in little over a half hour! I would have sent you a private message but that option was not available on your profile so I have to go make a public announcement now, Sherlock is kinda like a five-year-old isn't he? Well, I hope you enjoy this next chapter as much as you've enjoyed the rest of them! **

Sargent Sally Donovan was walking casually towards her locker. It was her break and she had to get her coat. When she turned the corner she nearly slipped on a pair of pants lying on the floor. Donovan cursed, then, on closer inspection she realized they were **her** pants. Looking around, she saw her spare clothing lying all over her office.

"Freak!" She screeched. "What the **hell** did you do with my clothes!"

"Oh, hello Donovan. There is a very simple explanation for this, I was going to go undercover!"

"Using **my** clothes?"

"Yep."

"New rule, you cant use my clothes."

Sherlock pouted for half a second, then eyes snapped back to Sally, "If I cant borrow your clothes, may I borrow your handbag?"

"No."

"What about your lipstick?" He asked hopefully.

"My lipstick is in my handbag."

"Party popper." Sherlock muttered under his breath as he left the room.

"I'm gonna press charges the next time you take something from me Freak! Just a friendly warning."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but even still, when he got far enough away from Donovan that he felt his life was in no immediate danger he pulled out his paper, now almost filled on both sides, and quickly scribbled down a few new rules.

'Rule #35: I may not borrow Donovan's clothes from her locker to go undercover. Besides they didn't even fit.'

'Rule #36: I may not borrow Donovan's handbag or anything therein for any purpose.'

'Rule #37: This includes her lipstick.'

'Rule #38: Taking anything from Donovan in the future will be met with a theft charge.'

"New rule?" Lestrade questioned, seeing Sherlock folding the piece of paper.

"A couple. He Lestrade, will you bail me out of any theft charges I may happen to acquire?"

"Nope." Lestrade continued down the hall, then halted in his tacks, as if he just understood the full meaning behind Sherlock's questions. "Why, did you steal something from me?"

"Not that I recall. Oh, wait! Here you are!" Sherlock pulled out Lestrade's warrant card from his back pocket, he'd been meaning to return that from some time now.

"Did you take this from my desk? What use could you have for this?"

"I thought the answer to those questions would be obvious; yes I took it from your desk, and to get me into crime scenes without so much of a fuss. It really **is** easier with one of those."

"Sherlock, I will not bail you out when you get arrested for impersonating an officer."

"Aww, why not!"

Lestrade crossed his arms over his chest, "For starters I'll probably be the one to arrest you! And because I am an officer of the law, and the law applies to everyone, even you."

"I am above the law." Sherlock scoffed. Lestrade just glared at him. Sherlock huffed a sigh but let the matter drop. That night, he added four more rules to his list.

'Rule #39: No, Lestrade will not bail me out for any theft charges, weather or not he was the arresting officer.'

'Rule #40: Especially not if the items I stole came from his desk.'

'Rule #41: I may not use Lestrade's warrant card to gain access to a crime scene.'

'Rule #42: Nor will Lestrade bail me out after being arrested for impersonating an officer.'

**O**_bserve_

"Please Lestrade, I'm begging you!"

Lestrade only smiled, "I've warned you Sherlock. Tampering with evidence is a crime, you're lucky you're only in here for one night."

"Pleeeeease bail me out! I can't stay in here!"

"I will not bail you out, not stop asking. Besides, I'm sure it's not the first time you've been in a jail cell."

"Well, give me a phone then, I'll call Watson."

"Nope, you're stuck here overnight."

"I could to dance around the office and impersonate a monkey in front of the entire task force."

"And I could get you a longer sentence." Lestrade turned to leave, knowing he had won.

"I could get Mycroft to make you disappear." Lestrade only glared.

Shaking his head in disappointment Sherlock pulled out his sheet full of rules and wrote out four more.

'Rule #43: Lestrade will not bail me out for any charges against me, ever.'

'Rule #44: I am to stop asking.'

'Rule #45: Threatening his will not work either.'

'Rule #46: Getting Mycroft to threaten his will only annoy him further.'

**O**_bserve _

The fourth of July and they were stuck with a case, a difficult one at that. Even Sherlock was having a hard time, or, he was **pretending** he was having a hard time. Some officers were under the impression he was just trying to prolong the case for the pure fun of it. Weather the consulting detective was actually struggling was a complete mystery, and Lestrade figured that was the way Sherlock liked it.

It was a rather dull afternoon, well, it had been. Until Sherlock decided to stick a pack of fire crackers into one of the station microwaves. This resulted in a defining explosion which fried the microwave and nearly killed the man in the process.

"Freak, what did you do?" Sally demanded, striding down the hallway with Lestrade and a few other officers trailing after her.

"Nothing! I was just walking by, when BOOM!" Sherlock put his hands in the air to emphasize the explosion.

"Yeah, cause I'm gonna believe you." Donovan put her hands on her hips and glared at Sherlock.

"If you didn't do it, do you have any idea who did?" Lestrade asked, demonstrating the patience Sally only **wished** she could have when dealing with the troublesome detective. Really, sometimes that man acted for like a child that a grown-up!

"Anderson! He did it! I knew he looked suspicious this morning!"

There was a moment of silence before Lestrade began talking in an even tone, as if he were addressing a young child, "Sherlock, Anderson isn't here today. He's at a conference on the other end of town."

"Well dammit, that didn't work out like I'd planned."

"What'd you do Freak? What caused the microwave to blow?"

"I may have, kinda stuck some firecrackers in it." Sherlock avoided eye contact, rubbing a hand through his curly hair.

"You what?" Donovan shouted, "You actually brought firecrackers into the station!"

Sherlock gave a sheepish grin, "Not a good idea?"

Lestrade shook his head, "Not a good idea."

Sherlock spent the night in the holding cell in Lestrade's office. He added three more rules before attempting to get some rest on the uncomfortable cot.

'Rule #47: Bringing firecrackers into the station is never a good idea.'

'Rule #48: It is an even worse idea to put them in the microwave to see if they will actually go off.'

'Rule #49: Blaming Anderson does not work if he's not even in the same building.'

**O**_bserve_

Sherlock smiled to himself, laughing evilly. Any passersby would have mistaken him for a madman, but to the people at Scotland Yard, he was just being Sherlock.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Sherlock knew who it was, he'd known before they'd even opened their annoying chatterbox, but even still. He pretended to be oblivious and turned around with an innocent smile on his face. When his eyes fell on the man before him Sherlock quickly covered then, groaning loudly. "Anderson, put a mask on or something! You're going to kill someone one of these days!"

"Hardy har har, you're a bundle of laughs. Now, what are you doing with the microwave?"

"Well, I thought even **you'd** be smart enough to recognize an experiment when you saw one. I give you more credit than you really deserve, you do know that, don't you?"

Anderson was ignoring Sherlock's jibes, instead going to inspect what he was currently cooking the microwave. He jumped back in alarm, his voice rising at least one octave, "Is that a brain?"

"Not from a human, I can assure you."

"Where did you get it? And why did you put it in the microwave!"

"Where I got it is..." Sherlock paused, searching for the correct word, "Complicated. So I wont even begin to explain. As to why it is in the microwave, I wanted to see if it would explode when overheated!"

Anderson just starred at him in shock, before snapping into action and pushing the stop button on the microwave before anything disastrous happened.

"Party popper." Sherlock remarked.

"Psychopath."

"Prissy."

Anderson chose to ignore that last remark, "I take it that complicated means it wasn't purchased at Tesco or Sainsbury's."

"Why do you care?" Sherlock snapped.

"Was it purchased at Tesco or Sainsbury's?"

"No!"

"New rule for you, anything that was at one point alive is not allowed in the microwaves unless purchased from Tesco or Sainsbury's."

Sherlock stuck out his tongue as he added rule fifty-four to his list.

'Rule #54: Unless it was purchased from Tesco or Sainsbury's, nothing that was at one point alive is allowed in any of the microwaves at the station.'

Anderson read it over, as if he had to grant his approval, "That includes **parts** of living things as well!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, snatching the paper back.

'Rule #55: This includes pieces of things that were at one point alive.'

"Are you happy now?" He snapped.

Anderson smiled a huge, fake grin. "Overjoyed." He stood there for a moment, just watching Sherlock, as if he expected him to do something.

Finally Sherlock couldn't take it any longer, "What!"

"Well, you have your new rule, clean that up!"

"Actually, that was never part of anything living so the rule doesn't apply."

"What do you mean it wasn't part of anything living? It's a brain!"

"From a stillborn sheep!"

"That still counts! Now get it out of the microwave!"

Sherlock once again stuck his tongue out, bending over to add another rule.

'Rule #56: It doesn't matter if that brain came from a stillborn sheep, it still counts and is not allowed in the microwave.'

**Like it, hate it? Reviews = Love and cupcakes! :) **


	5. Chapter 5

Even with all the rules and guidelines in place, Sherlock still acted like his normal self. After all, restrictions only make tasks harder to complete, they do not make said tasks impossible.

Which is why Donovan was the next one to find Sherlock sticking animal parts into yet another innocent microwave.

"What are you doing?"

"Can no one let me perform my experiments in peace!"

"Not when it involves sticking things that bear a scary resemblance to cow testicles in our kitchen wear."

"But I didn't break any of my rules! The paper says that if I buy my animal entrails at either Tesco or Sainsbury's they can go in the microwave, and I bought mine from both, just to be safe!"

"I don't care **where** you bought them, they are not allowed to touch the microwave!"

"You people suck the fun out of everything." Sherlock grumbled as he pulled out his pen.

'Rule #57: Nothing that was at one point alive is allowed in any of the station microwaves, even if it was purchased at Tesco or Sainsbury's.'

Still Sherlock stayed by his word that he could find a way to entertain himself even with all the rules for him to follow.

So once again, on one of the more slow days Sherlock was found, this time by Lestrade, stringing all of the kitchen microwaves together.

"Sherlock, I'm afraid to ask, what are you doing?"

Sherlock looked up, grateful to have an audience. "Glad you asked Lestrade! I am seeing how many microwaves I can string together before I blow a fuze!"

"No, no you are not, because you are no longer allowed to handle to microwaves."

"Aw well," Sherlock just shrugged, dropping the cord in his hands, "I can think of some pretty awesome things to do with a handful of kettles."

"Nope, you cant touch those either." Lestrade paused, then remembered something Sherlock had said outside his office so long ago, "Or the coffee makers."

"Coffee makers?"

"You'd be surprised what you can do with those things."

Sherlock smirked despite himself, removing his pen and paper.

'Rule #58: I am not allowed to touch any of the station microwaves.'

'Rule #59: Or the coffee makers.'

'Rule #60: Or the kettles.'

Sixty-nine. Sixty-nine rules in place.

"How could they **possibly** ban so many things?" Sherlock wondered aloud. This was outrageous. They had taken anything remotely amusing and stripped it down. Everything was black and white now, everything way too damn perfect. They needed color in their lives, otherwise each day would be the same.

"Oh, wait," Sherlock paused, only then remembering the last rule, the reason he was at home now instead of at the yard. It had been a joke, or, he had meant it to be a joke, but Lestrade hadn't found it funny. Frankly, no one at the yard had found it funny. They had no sense of humor.

'Rule #70: I am never again allowed to step foot in the building in full drag, for any reason.'

Sherlock did a once over of his papers. There was more than one now, he'd run out of room on the first page somewhere around rule thirty-eight. On the first page, at the very top where it used to read 'Rule of Thumb', now said 'Rule**s **of Thumb'. Sherlock had added a very dark, out of place looking s.

After glancing though each and every rule one more time, Sherlock laughed to himself. As if they'd **ever** get him to follow these! On that note, Sherlock promptly ripped the list in half, feeding the halves of paper to the paper shredder, and then burning the shredded bits.

Sherlock then pulled out a single piece of paper and wrote his name in the upper right hand corner. Across the top he wrote, 'Rule of Thumb' so that it closely resembled his first list. Underneath he wrote one rule and one rule only.

'Rule #1: Wreak as much havoc on Scotland Yard as humanly possible, in one lifetime.'

**Well there concludes my little... I don't know what to call this. Thanks everyone who has stuck with this and reviewed! I hope you enjoyed this last bit, in case anyone was wondering, that last rule was mine! One more time I would like to thank OxfordTweed for allowing me use of your story! On that note, I hope you all have checked out OxfordTweed's story, '70 Things Sherlock Holmes is no Longer Allowed' (the fic this story is based off of) cause now I am going to do something special! If you have read the list of 70 things Sherlock isn't allowed to do at Scotland Yard and I have skipped a rule you would really like to see written out, do not fret! Shoot me a message with the rule, or a rule and an idea of how the scene will play out, and I will dedicate a bonus chapter to you! :) As always, reviews are love! **


	6. Paint it Pink

It was finished. He'd been working all through the night without so much as a bathroom break, but he'd finally finished.

Just in time too, it was five to seven and according to his research Lestrade usually arrived anywhere between seven and ten after. Hopefully, he'd be running late, giving the others a chance to show up first.

Looking around the office one last time Sherlock smiled and every agent in Scotland Yard was lucky not to be there to see it because they'd probably have died of fright.

**Observe**

As sheer chance may have it, Lestrade **was **running late. The electricity in his flat had gone out for some unknown reason and unfortunately, his alarm clock functioned on that electricity and without it, said alarm clock would not go off.

So it was no surprise when Lestrade walked in a half hour late, he was less than pleased to see a hoard of people standing around his office. "Alright, move! What the **bloody **hell is going on here!"

At the very front of the crowd, Donovan stood attempting to cover a smile with her hand. John was next to her, rubbing his temples with his eyes closed as if he had a headache.

"What's-" But the question went unfinished as Lestrade got his first, good look at his office. "Oh my…"

"Lestrade, nice of you to show up!" The voice took Lestrade's focus off the room and instead on the soul occupant currently sitting in his chair.

"Sherlock," He said accusingly, "What the **hell** is this about?"

"I was bored." Sherlock replied with a shrug. "So I found a way to entertain myself."

"By painting my office… **pink**?" Lestrade shouted, his face taking on the slightest hint of red.

"Oh don't worry, it wasn't just for fun. I was also seeing what your reaction would be. So it's for a scientific cause."

"Oh well that makes it all right then. You just broke into my office and painted the walls pink, but it's for a scientific cause so it's fine."

"Shock, then anger, then sarcasm. Interesting."

"Interesting? You re-paint my office pink and all you have to say is **interesting**!" Lestrade took a step forward, looking very threatening all of a sudden.

"Ah Lestrade, **before** you strangle me," Sherlock started, sinking back into the leather seat as the DI advanced, "let's take a moment to really contemplate how much you love your job and really don't want to loose it!"

"I'm not going to strangle you."

"Of course you're not!"

Lestrade rolled his eyes and bent over to pick up the things he'd dropped in his brief moment of anger.

The crowd, slightly disappointed at the lack of confrontation, began to disperse until only John was left.

"Ok, I understand that you were bored and interested in my reaction, but why did you **really **paint my office pink?"

"I thought that would be rather obvious."

"Not to us it isn't." John spoke up for the first time that morning.

Sherlock let out a huff at the stupidity then explained, "Well, it **is **obvious to me that Lestrade is secretly gay! I thought this would make him feel more comfortable."

"Wha- I am **not** gay!"

"Oh don't deny it, I could list off ten ways to prove it right now, but I feel I've embarrassed you enough for one day. I'll save the good stuff for another time." Sherlock smiled, much to Lestrade's discomfort.

"I am not gay!"

"Alright. If you say so, but if you ever want to talk," Sherlock put a hand to his chest, pretending to sniffle slightly, "I'm here for you."

"Get out of my office."

"Ok." Sherlock jumped to his feet elegantly, almost like a cat and headed swiftly for the door.

"Wait a second." Lestrade called the Consulting Detective back, "How long did it take you to do this?"

"All night, I finished at five to seven this morning!" Sherlock smiled proudly.

"That's fantastic, because now you can spend all of tonight painting it back to the original color."

Sherlock's smile faded to a glare, "You didn't even have that interesting of a reaction." He grumbled, "Bet I'd get better results if I pulled this on Anderson…"

"No, no, **no**!" Lestrade interrupted his thoughts, "Never again, you hear me? **Never**."

Sherlock sighed, "Fine, it wasn't even worth it anyway. I don't suppose you'll buy the paint?"

"Nope."

Sherlock sighed again, then turned to leave.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Lestrade questioned.

"Oh what **now**?"

"Your rule?"

"Oh it's not even worth putting on that stupid sheet, this was a complete waste of my time. Although it was interesting, the whole of Scotland Yard was expecting you to punch me."

"Believe me, I was thinking about it."

"Really?" Sherlock asked, as if he didn't quite believe the man.

"Yes. Now don't you have some paint to buy?"

Sherlock stuck his tongue out at Lestrade then turned on his heel and walked out of the DI's office. John gave a smile and a wave then quickly followed.

"Don't suppose you'll be helping me out tonight?" Sherlock asked hopefully.

"Not a chance." There was a moment of silence before John looked up at Sherlock and spoke in a hushed tone, "Is he really gay?"

"Oh yes." Sherlock smiled, "And he's got the hots for you."

John stopped in his tracks, "Wait, w-what?"

**A/N: Alrighty then, that concludes the first (and hopefully not last) bonus chapter! This chapter is dedicated to IBegToDreamAndDiffer, thanks so much for letting me use your idea, I hope it's to your satisfaction! Ok, so I really hope this will convince the rest of you to open us with an idea of your own! Honestly, if there is a rule I did not write that you would like to see, or if you have your own idea, shoot me a message! **


	7. Deadly Assassin

**Alright, another chapter dedicated to the most amazing, IbegToDreamAndDiffer. Honestly, any other people with ideas out there? Anyone? (looks around hopefully as if people will just pop out of the ground shouting ideas to me) I mean, I've got other stuff to write, but I thought it would be fun just to keep this little thing going. Well, I'll stop talking now, you came here to read, so read you will! **

It was five am, outside was dark, the sun wouldn't rise four another few hours. Mycroft had just walked into his office, not bothering with the lights. He was in the process of removing his coat when he sensed it. There was someone else in the room with him. Mycroft whirled around to face his foe but it was too late. There was a loud crack, Mycroft jumped, clutching at his chest as he felt something wet.

His attacker stepped from his hiding place behind the door, silent as night. "Now you're dead." Sherlock stated, a smug look on his face.

"Jesus Christ Sherlock! You just about gave me a heart attack!"

Sherlock smiled devilishly, "Mission accomplished then."

"Mission- what?" Mycroft shook his head, still attempting to get his breathing back under control.

"Oh it was just a simple experiment."

Mycroft flipped the light on and groaned softly, "Sherlock, what is this?" He indicated the red colored liquid on his chest.

"Nothing, a child's toy. You can find them anywhere, honestly."

"Sherlock, you ruined my suit."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, sitting down in Mycroft's chair and putting his feet on the desk, "It'll wash out."

"That's not the point! What is this about anyway?"

"Just an experiment."

"An experiment for what?"

"To prove that you're stressed out."

"I am not."

Sherlock laughed softly, "When you walked in this morning it took you almost ten seconds to realize something was of, an obvious sign your mind was focused on something else. And then you freaked out when I 'shot you' even though the toy sounded nothing like a real gun, and most of all, there was the stunning lack of pain. You'd just been shot, your chest would be burning."

"I suppose you speak from experience?"

Sherlock gasped slightly, the smile fading from his face.

"You thought I didn't know about that? Honestly Sherlock,"

"Oh stop it," Sherlock crossed his arms, starring down at the keyboard on Mycroft's desk, "You're not my mother."

"Now there's something, how do you think Mummy feels?"

Sherlock's gaze snapped back up to Mycroft's face, his eyes wide, "You've told her?"

"Heavens no, she'd have both our heads."

Sherlock seemed to relax slightly at that, it only took a few more seconds for him to regain his normal composure.

Sherlock seemed to relax slightly at that, it only took a few more seconds for him to regain his normal composure. "Wear your extra suit you keep in the closet. Send that one to the dry cleaners today. Problem solved." Sherlock crossed the small distance between himself and the exit.

"Sherlock, do me a favor,"

Sherlock paused just outside the door, not even bothering to turn around.

"Do **try** and stay out of trouble."

Sherlock turned then, but only about half way, so he was still facing the exit, a mischievous grin on his face, "Never."


	8. Of Boredom and Cars

**A/N: First off, I have to apologize. I've had part of this written for AGES now and just never got around to finishing it. I feel so bad! Well, this goes out to ****IbegToDreamAndDiffer.**** Again, I'm sorry this took so long! **

Sherlock sighed, watching John lazily flip through the channels with a bored expression.

Noticing the Consulting Detectives eyes on his John look up, his eyebrows raised in question, "What?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you starring at me?"

"I'm bored." Sherlock replied with a shrug.

"If you're bored, find something to do."

"I thought I just had."

"Something that's **not **starring at me."

"Why? You're amusing."

John continued to glare until finally Sherlock sighed loudly and his eyes drifted towards the wall, maybe he'd take his skull to his room and engage him in a stimulating argument.

Just before he worked up enough motivation to stand a commercial for a car repair store popped up on the screen. Sherlock didn't catch the whole thing because he'd been tuning the tele out, but the last line caught his attention. _"Remember, no one but the professionals can put a car together. Don't hesitate, come to us!" _

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh at the statement causing John glanced in his direction. "What are you laughing at?"

"The commercial, it was funny."

"It was for a car care center."

"I know. It said no one but them could put a car together."

John failed to see the relevance of the man's statement. "So?"

"I can."

Now John laughed, full-blown, howling laugh. "You can**not **put a car together."

Sherlock's eyebrows dropped, confused as to why John wouldn't believe him; John believed everything, even his craziest deductions. "I can so."

"I'll bet you can't." John was still smiling that huge, arrogant, and positively **annoying **smile.

Sherlock's face turned hard, "How much?"

"It's a bit different than a person Sherlock! You can't just look at it and fit all the pieces together!"

"How. Much?" Sherlock repeated, smirking slightly.

John sighed in defeat, "Lets say, twenty pounds?"

"You're on."

"I'll give you till sundown."

"What? A time limit was never part of this!"

"Oh come on Sherlock, we both know that if you don't finish by dark, you **never **will."

Sherlock remained silent for a bit, then nodded in agreement. "Fine. I'll see you later."

"I wish you luck!" John shouted as Sherlock left the flat.

"I won't need it!" He shouted in reply, taking the stairs two at a time. This was **way **better than arguing with his skull.

John laughed to himself as he turned back to the tele. Sherlock would most likely be gone all afternoon, he had the flat to himself. No explosions, no dangerous chemicals, and no deadly fumes. This was shaping up to be a pretty good day.

_**O**__**bserve **_

"Done."

"Hoe can you be done? It's only four o'clock!" John demanded.

"Well," Sherlock looked thoughtful, "It **did **take me a while to find the car, but once I had it, building it was simple enough."

John crossed his arms over his chest, "I don't believe you." He stated flatly.

"Come see. It's downstairs."

John starred after Sherlock's retreating form in confusion, the **car **was downstairs. "How is a car downstairs?"

"There." Sherlock pointed at the ground.

"That's it?"

Sherlock nodded, "That's it."

John shook his head slowly, laughing to himself. Sitting in front of the door, in all it's glory, was a tiny toy car.

"There, told I could."

John's mouth feel open slightly, "What? This is **not **a car!"

Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest, "It is too."

"It's a child's toy!" John snapped.

'A very detailed child's toy!" Sherlock countered.

"It's barely a foot tall!"

"It's a foot and a half and you never specified the **size **of car."

John shook his head with a sigh, "Sherlock, it's a toy."

"Well John, it's the best I could do because **some**one put me on a time restraint! And you just said car, this is a car, therefore I win." Sherlock stated matter-of-factually.

"I'm not paying you over a toy."

John and Sherlock glared at each other for a while, neither giving any sign that they were planning on backing off any time soon.

Then John burst out laughing, and after a second, Sherlock joined in as well.

"That was ridiculous." Sherlock stated.

"**You're **ridiculous!" John shot back!

The room was silent again before John turned back to Sherlock, curiosity written across his face, "So, what do you plan to do with it now?"

With a shrug Sherlock turned to head back up to their flat, "I don't know. Maybe I'll glue it to Mycroft's floor."

**A/N: First off, I live in the US, I don't know what price is suitable for a bet. Sorry. Second, I have no idea what they would measure in over in London, and I really don't feel like finding out. The next chapter is where things get fun, Sherlock, Mycroft's nice wooden floor, a lot of superglue, and a very angry big brother! **


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